Calculus is of the Devil
by moreorlesme
Summary: College!fic.  The guys are away at school together, navigating their way through freshman year.
1. Chapter 1

"Calculus is of the devil," Kurt announced, barging into the practice room where Blaine sat straight-backed at the piano.

"I told you to drop that class weeks ago." He didn't have to turn around to know he was getting a look.

Kurt dropped his bag and slid down the wall. "You fail at being supportive."

"And you fail at proofs. Which is why I told you to drop the class. You're studying music performance and marketing, Kurt. Why in hell would you put yourself through the pain of college calculus?" He threw up his hands in exasperation. "And more importantly, why would you put me through the pain of getting you through college calculus?"

Blaine finally turned around and found Kurt slumped on the floor, looking crumpled and dazed.

"The last drop day is tomorrow. I know your password, Kurt. If you don't do it, I will."

"How do you know my password?"

"Because I know how your brain works. Let me see… 'I less than three a Warbler'?"

Kurt blushed. "I hate you."

"You love me. Your password says so."

"Stupid password. I'll drop the class. Tonight. After the concert."

Blaine groaned and turned back to the piano.

"You'll be great," Kurt said from his place on the floor.

Blaine groaned again and dropped his head to the shiny black surface of the piano.

"I don't get why you're nervous about tonight. As many times as you've performed, this should be nothing to you."

"Because I'm a freshman in college. And I'm singing the lead part that I stole from a senior. And half the group hates my guts."

"And the other half loves your guts. I'm in that half, by the way. Even though I still hate the rest of you."

"Um, thanks?"

"Plus, you didn't steal anything. You auditioned like everyone else and were awarded a part. You deserve it. You're amazing, Blaine." Kurt pushed himself up off the floor and moved to sit beside Blaine on the piano bench. "I love you." He leaned in to kiss Blaine's temple.

"I thought you hated me."

He shrugged. "I paused the hatred."

Blaine rolled his eyes at Kurt, who wrapped both arms around him and squeezed.

"Blaine Warbler, you're going to perform the hell out of that concert tonight. Now, give me a preview." He motioned Blaine up and reached for the play button.

He could see the change in Blaine as soon as the first notes sounded, and by the time he opened his mouth to sing, all traces of anxiety had disappeared.

Kurt beamed up at him from his place at the piano. "That's it," he breathed, as the last notes faded away. "Sing just like that tonight – exactly like that – and no one will question your solos ever again."

Blaine collapsed beside him on the piano bench and laid his head on Kurt's shoulder. "Thank you, Kurt. You're the best."

"I'm fully aware. I'm teaching a class next Saturday. You should sign up."

"Brat," he said, poking at Kurt's ribs, then leaning in to capture Kurt's smug smile. Kurt ran a hand through his hair, pulling him closer, and for a few fleeting moments, the pressures of the day faded and it was just the two of them, there, in that space.

"Yeah, but I'm your brat," Kurt whispered when they finally surfaced. He reached to brush back a wayward curl.

"Thank God. Now let's get out of here for a few hours. I need to see the sunshine."

* * *

><p>Blaine bounded out the front doors of the fine arts building, Kurt doing his best to keep up.<p>

"Hey, let's go play frisbee!" Blaine bounced excitedly as Kurt descended the last two stairs and fixed him with a withering look.

"Frisbee? Really? Honey, does it look like I'm wearing the proper footwear for sports?"

"Baby, do you even own the proper footwear for sports?"

"Depends. Do you consider power shopping a sport?"

"Um, no. Ok, so no frisbee." Blaine pouted a little.

Kurt took his hand and pulled him in the direction of the quad. "I'm sure there's someone around for you to play with. I'll camp out under a tree and watch."

"You sure? Because yay." Blaine swung their joined hands back and forth.

"Absolutely. I wholly support the idea of you burning off a little of this energy." They exchanged a look, and Kurt winked playfully.

"So, how were your other classes this morning? Besides the evil calculus."

"Oh, fine. We got the lit prof to do the voices again. _Candide_ is exponentially more awesome when read with a crazy French accent."

"I'm sure. And your marketing class? Was mister flirtypants there today?"

"No, thank God. Rumor has it he dropped the class out of embarrassment. Guess the t-shirt did the trick."

"Told you." Blaine had taken a sharpie to one of Kurt's high school t-shirts, editing 'Likes Boys' to read 'Likes Blaine'. He'd even dotted the 'I' with a little heart, much to Kurt's chagrin. "And be glad I was right, because my next step was to write 'Property of Blaine Anderson' on your forehead in permanent marker."

Kurt laughed. "Thank God it didn't come to that, then." He squeezed Blaine's hand.

They neared the quad and veered toward a group tossing frisbees back and forth. Blaine recognized a few of the guys from their dorm and waved. "Mind if I join you?" he shouted. They responded with a chorus of invitations.

Blaine handed over his bag and ran to join the group, while Kurt settled himself under a shade tree. Shielding his eyes from the sun, he watched as Blaine played.


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt reached to straighten the tie of Blaine's tuxedo. "Stop bouncing. Please, for two seconds. Blaine!"

Blaine had entered performance mode the second he slipped on his jacket, and his game face was firmly in place.

"How much time? It's almost time, right? Man, I'm ready to do this." He continued bouncing.

"Less than ten minutes." Kurt stepped back and crossed his arms. The tie was a lost cause.

"Did you remember the camera?"

"Yep, and the camcorder. I gave the girls specific instructions. Don't worry. I've got things under control." He straightened his own tie for the fifth time in as many minutes, then reached for his phone to check the time.

"Do you ever not have things under control?"

"Well, I can't seem to control your feet." He gave Blaine a once-over and shook his head. Blaine's particularly insane pre-show rituals were something Kurt would never understand, and he'd long since given up trying.

Blaine reached for Kurt's hands. "Bounce with me. It's fun."

"And risk this hair? You're out of your mind." He sucked in his cheeks and struck a dramatic pose, and Blaine let out a throaty laugh.

Places were called then, and the ensemble shuffled around them, nervous energy palpable.

"We should go." Kurt cocked his head toward the stage.

"Not just yet." Blaine stopped bouncing and reached for the lapels of Kurt's jacket, pulling him in close. Rising up to his tiptoes, he leaned in and whispered, "Wish me luck?"

Kurt hummed in response and pressed his lips to Blaine's. "Luck," he breathed, sliding his arms around Blaine's waist and stepping closer.

"Uh, gentlemen?" The director cleared his throat, and hooked a thumb toward the stage. "Show time."

Kurt placed a final quick kiss to Blaine's lips. "Knock 'em dead out there."

"That's the plan." Blaine bounced a few last times, and rubbed his hands together. "Let's do this."

* * *

><p>When the curtain fell, whoops of excited relief went up from a few members of the group and Blaine was immediately swallowed up in a sea of tuxedos. Kurt stood back and watched as each group member in turn offered Blaine hearty congratulations and slaps on the back.<p>

Leaving Blaine to his fawning crowd, Kurt slipped away to gather their things. He changed quickly, then collected their cameras and a few extra programs for their parents.

When the crowd around him finally dissipated, Blaine caught sight of Kurt seated toward the back of the empty auditorium, camera in hand, thumbing through pictures from the show. He jumped off stage and started down the aisle, a noticeable swagger in his step.

"That," he said, reaching Kurt, eyes big with excitement, "was fun."

Kurt nodded. "And you were amazing. Amazing! My boyfriend, ladies and gentlemen." Kurt made a dramatic sweeping gesture to a pretend audience, then applauded heartily. Blaine pulled a serious face and bowed deep at the waist.

"Thank you, thank you. Please, hold your applause."

Kurt set the camera down and stood, stepping toward Blaine. "Seriously, you were…"

"A little flat?"

"Eh…" Kurt waffled.

"I was not. I was perfect. Now c'mere and congratulate me." He hooked his fingers through Kurt's beltloops and closed the gap between them as Kurt slipped his hands inside Blaine's jacket and clasped them behind his back.

"You were perfect." He pulled Blaine closer and held him tight, feeling the nervous energy still buzzing through him. Blaine pressed a hand to the small of Kurt's back as the other hand swept across his cheek.

"Thank you. And thank you for earlier. For today."

Kurt shrugged. "S'part of my job."

"Well, then you deserve a raise." Kurt choked back a laugh and Blaine poked at his ribs. "You have a filthy mind."

"Only because someone corrupted me." Kurt fixed him with a pointed look.

"Mmhm," Blaine said, rolling his eyes, "I accept full responsibility."

"As you should. Besides, you like my mind."

"I do. Along with the rest of you." Blaine angled in for a kiss, but Kurt threw up a hand between them.

"Oh, no. No no no. Don't even try to charm me out of this after party. After the week I've had, I deserve a little fun."

"What, and I'm not fun?"

"Aw," Kurt pouted his lip in mirror of Blaine. "Of course you're fun, Mr. Poutyface. But I wanna dance. Now hurry up and change. Hop to!"

"Fine." He stepped away from Kurt and grabbed his bag. "This'll go faster if you hang stuff up for me." He knew full well that Kurt would check his bag anyway, to make sure everything was neat. He was like his own personal choir mom, only much better looking. Blaine grinned at the thought.

Kurt rolled his eyes in acquiescence. "Come on, you. Seriously, what would you do without me?"

Blaine reached for his hand and gave it a quick squeeze. "Be very, very wrinkled, I imagine."


	3. Chapter 3

The party was in full swing by the time they stepped through the front doors. Someone had hung a disco ball in the middle of the great room and music was pumping through a sound system that probably cost more than their tuition.

"C'mon," Kurt enthused, squeezing Blaine's hand and pulling him in the direction of the kitchen, "we need drinks."

"You need a drink. I have an 8am presentation tomorrow, remember?"

Kurt's shoulders slumped. "Remind me to arrange our schedules so that neither of us have any classes before noon next semester."

"Sure. But I like my early classes. Means I have every afternoon free to play." Blaine had managed to join every intramural team so far that semester.

"Fine," Kurt sighed. "I guess you can keep your insane morning classes if it means getting to see you in those cute little soccer shorts more often."

Blaine smiled. "Just wait 'til baseball season."

"Oh, but you look funny in hats." Kurt wrinkled his nose.

"Baby," he leaned in and whispered, "once you see me in those pants, I promise you won't even notice the hat."

"Well, then." Kurt's ears reddened a bit. "That's certainly something to look forward to. My boyfriend, the hottie hot hot jock. Who knew?"

"A true renaissance man." Blaine tipped an imaginary hat.

"Indeed."

They stepped up to the table, which was thoroughly covered in bottles.

"So, mister renaissance man, want to try your hand at bartending?"

Blaine rubbed his hands together, surveying the selection. "What'll it be, sir?"

"I'll have a whiskey and a whiskey," Kurt said, gesturing.

"Um ok, George Clooney," Blaine said, shaking his head. "How about you just stick with the party punch?"

"Fine. I'll take one to go, please."

"Do you want fries with that?" Blaine asked, playing along.

A devilish grin played at Kurt's mouth. "No, but I'll take a small shake."

Blaine gave a little shimmy, then handed Kurt a glass and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"You're fun, bartender man," Kurt said, sipping his drink. "I think I'll keep you."

"And that," Blaine said, pointing a finger at Kurt, "had better be the last time you pick up a bartender."

"I make no promises. Especially if they're as gorgeous as you."

"Flatterer," Blaine said, slipping an arm around Kurt and sliding his hand down into his back pocket.

"You know that totally ruins the line of these pants, right?" Kurt asked, pressing closer into Blaine's side.

"Fully aware. Though they look pretty damn good from this angle."

"Now who's the flatterer?" Kurt snaked an arm around Blaine's waist and squeezed. They walked toward the great room, where they were met with a round of raucous cheers.

"The man of the hour!" one of the choir members shouted, pointing at Blaine. The group roared in response. Strong hands fell on Blaine's shoulders and he felt himself being pushed forward.

"We demand an encore, Freshman." Half the group had been disdainfully calling him that since he was awarded his solo. Now it sounded more like a badge of honor.

Blaine was thrust forward onto a makeshift stage and handed a microphone as the opening beats pounded through the speakers. He immediately understood why Kurt had insisted they attend the party. He searched the group, and found him leaning against the wall, grinning wickedly. Blaine shook his head at Kurt, who only winked in response.

Taking a breath, he launched into the song he knew all too well, hamming it up playfully for his audience. He stepped off the stage minutes later, flushed and breathless, and made his way over to Kurt.

"You had a hand in that, didn't you?" He leaned in and nipped at the skin below Kurt's ear.

"Maybe?" Kurt shrugged innocently.

"Remind me to play poker with you sometime." He pressed his back to the wall next to Kurt and interlaced their fingers as they watched a group of guys crowd around the microphone.

A dozen drunken performances later, the microphone was finally unplugged, and the music switched over to a thumping techno beat. Kurt tipped back the last of his third trip to the bar, then set his cup aside. He took Blaine's hands and pulled him toward the middle of the room.

"Now, about that dancing." Kurt's eyes were wide and his speech a bit slurred. He spun around quickly, and Blaine had to reach out to steady him.

"Easy there, Twirly McGee."

Kurt threw his arms into the air, narrowly missing the people around him, and rocked his head from side to side, bouncing to the pulsing rhythm. His eyes closed as he let himself be overtaken by the music. Blaine bobbed in time, not even attempting to match Kurt's unbridled movements. Mostly, he just enjoyed his view.

When the last pounding notes echoed away, the room was filled with a slow, easy melody. The juxtaposition was jarring, though no one seemed to exactly mind. Kurt stepped forward, draping his arms over Blaine's shoulders and drawing close. Blaine placed a strong hand on the small of Kurt's back and spun them in a slow circle, careful to avoid the couples around them.

They swayed in time, Kurt leaning heavily into Blaine, humming along contentedly and running a hand up and down Blaine's back. Another slow song began, and they eased into the new beat.

"Babe?" Blaine whispered, tugging at Kurt's arm.

"I really am, aren't I?" Kurt slurred in response.

"Um, well, yes. But that's not what I mean right now. Can you maybe stand up on your own for a sec? Otherwise we may well end up in a heap on the floor in, oh I don't know, about three seconds." Blaine's knees trembled a little under Kurt's added body weight.

"But Blaine," Kurt whined, leaning further into him.

"I'm not kidding, Kurt," Blaine said, taking a shaking step backward. He felt hands on his back, then.

"Looks like you've got your hands full, Freshman," said Matt, one of the tenors.

"You have no idea, man," Blaine answered as Matt stepped around him and wrapped both arms around Kurt, pulling him back and away from Blaine. Kurt let out a whine, and the two boys guided him in the direction of the couch.

"Dude, he does not hold his alcohol, does he?"

"He's usually much better than this. What the hell was in the punch?"

"Uh, something akin to a Long Island iced tea. Didn't anyone warn you?"

"No. And that would've been helpful information." He looked down at Kurt slumped over the arm of the couch. "Watch him for me, will you?"

Without waiting for a response, Blaine set off toward the kitchen. He returned carrying three bottles of water and a sleeve of crackers. Twisting the cap off a bottle, he crouched beside the couch.

"Kurt? I need you to drink this, ok?" Kurt ignored the request, seeming far more interested in the pattern the disco ball was casting on the floor.

"Kurt." Blaine snapped his fingers to get his attention.

"Hi," Kurt smiled lazily as he looked up at Blaine. He reached out and patted Blaine's cheek. "You're pretty."

"And you're pretty trashed," he answered, amusement in his voice. He held the bottle of water in front of Kurt's face. "Drink."

Kurt took the bottle and sipped, then held it back out for Blaine.

"Nope, drink it all. Chugalug, babe."

Kurt pulled a pouty face, but tipped the bottle back and emptied it. He handed the bottle back to Blaine, burping loudly. He clasped a hand over his mouth and doubled over in a fit of giggles.

Blaine just shook his head. "Excuse you, Mr. Manners."

Over the next half hour, Blaine managed to cajole Kurt into finishing the other two bottles, along with a handful of crackers and two aspirin.

"Do you think you can make it back to the dorm?" Blaine asked, as Kurt stood, wobbling slightly.

Kurt's eyes were closed, and he held up a finger to silence Blaine. "Dizzy. Just give me a sec."

Blaine reached for his elbow as Kurt swayed a little. Kurt drew in a shaky breath, then opened his eyes slowly and met Blaine's gaze.

"What kind of evil was in the punch?" he whispered.

"You don't want to know. Are you ok?" Blaine searched his eyes.

"I will be. Once I relearn to walk." He took a few shaky steps before he regained his equilibrium. "I'm just going to splash a little water on my face, and then can we please go home?"

"Of course." Blaine ran a sympathetic hand down his arm.


End file.
